Olga's Poetry & Thoughts

You're beautiful, you're brilliant, I love you Let the rain pour from the heavens Travel into your heart and escape through your eyes Let it purify Let the flood erode all roads Dead-ends, avenues, chi-chi boutiques Chocolate and coffee and lobster and beer Will melt into the flood and disappear The waters will burst into the banks The houses, the pet stores and the cars They will be purified Ratty dogs will swim upstream Neighbours will cower in each other's basements Telling tales of childhood simplicity Telling the children about cotton candy and bliss And the parents will curl up and kiss It is all purified When the flood ceases and the light hits their eyelids They will see a world they do not know Without its dead-ends, or avenues, or gourmet coffee shops Without parking tickets, Visa cards, or angry cops They will be purified You're beautiful, you're brilliant, I love you

It's that time of night, either 11 or 2, When I start to get the headboard blues There's nothing more awkward, we can agree Than hearing your neighbour in ecstasy I'd rather be woken to birds in their nest Than a pursuant "yes, yes, YES" The sound makes you too human, too real I've seen you check your mail, and I've heard you squeal I've seen you walk your dog and I do confess I get uncomfortable when you say the word "yes" The headboard noise is probably the worst I stare at the ceiling; ah, I've been cursed I play some music and curl into a ball Waiting patiently until you finish your brawl What you do in your home is your own affair Just letting you know: I'm also there Creepy, right? Those are apartments, you see But let me nag you, if only indirectly I'd rather listen to five kids crying at once I'd rather hear twenty-five basketballs bounce I'd rather be woken by a tiger's roar Or of a teenag...

As Father Snow turns the world blue-grey I think about tulips on a snowy day I think about Spring even though she is dead Father Snow captured her and tore off her head He transformed the world into ice and metal All beauty that remains is one tulip petal Each year the sad couple kisses again And the world is saved from frostbite and pain And the heart is kept from heavenly song If only for a moment, or not even so long For there will be a day when the tulips will prime In the middle of winter; it will be the time To surrender to the snow and humbly pray And allow the late Spring to show me the way When the heart is lost and the sky is grey I can only think about tulips on a sombre day

2016 is a big year for me and for most friends my age. 2016 means I'll transform from "Olga Taratuta, High School Graduate" to "Olga Taratuta, B.A." 2016 holds my future in its sweaty palms. The words "job," "money," "graduate school," and "scholarships" seem to have dominated my pool of vocabulary. 2016 is where I become a real adult, not the OSAP mooching fraud that I am now. But adulthood is a scam. It is a fable told by society to keep the economy in check. Adults are seduced by money. We become promiscuous, lurking the streets to make a buck.  My original goals for 2016 were to: A) Get into graduate school B) Get a job C) Get an apartment D) Save, save, save! Then I realized that all those goals are money-driven to some degree. They are but cookie cutter resolutions, such as "exercise more" or "lose 5 pounds." I will not make money by aiming to make money. I have realized this ...

I have compiled a list of the top 10 books I read in 2015 (but the books are not necessarily written in 2015... actually none of them are). Yes, I read a lot. Hopefully my fellow bookworms will take joy in this list, and read one of these gems this Christmas season. 10. Into the Wild (1996) by: Jon Krakauer Favourite quote: "It is easy, when you are young, you believe that what you desire is no less than what you deserve, to assume that if you want something badly enough, it is your God-given right to have it." Reason to read this book: it will make you feel more adventurous (but also sad) This book is a very touching, non-fictional account of Chris McCandless, a man who, upon graduating college, journeys on his own to the middle of the Alaskan wilderness, and never returns. His tale does not make sense to the average, sedentary person, and why any human would take such a risk baffles me. It's a great read, and will take you to the wild side! 9. Dracula (1...

Here is a thing that you may not know about me. I hate my face. And not in a casual sort of way that is modest and attention-seeking. The self-hate for my face is real. Amid all my insecurities, from some of my unpleasant personality traits to my guilt of not working out enough (whoops!), my face, unfortunately (and quite shallowly) takes first place. Perhaps writing down this insecurity, taming it, and confining it to a series of paragraphs will help me see how senseless it is to fret so much about something, that, frankly, is irrelevant to my worth as a person, and how my obsessive insecurity might, ironically, make me a more irritable and spiteful person instead. Ever since the age of twelve, I have had acne. You know, the usual teenager "T-zone" acne on the forehead, cheeks, chin, and occasional nose and neck. Except maybe a tad worse than the "usual." That means, for the past nine years of my life, I have woken up every single day being self-conscious. I don...

I went to sleep one day and woke up on the street With a musky beard on my chin and no shoes on my feet I smelled my whiskey breath and cried to the sky Why have you taken away my youth, God, why? I woke the next day on a downy filled bed Servants round my toes and a crown on my head I was asked to behead twenty people that day Can I please be a beggar again, if I may? After a night full of dispassionate sorrow I could not find a more dismal tomorrow I was a blind woman and a deaf one too I envied the man who couldn't afford shoes The next day I saw in the mirror a face With not even an eyelash out of place A bombshell model who puked up bread I cried because I'd rather be blind than dead In the span of one night I aged 50 years Gained wrinkles and fuzz in my ears I was a grandfather so close to the grave To be a pretty girl again I so did crave Switching through bodies was exhausting, you see I forgot who I was, but I yearned to be me Which will n...